


Where I am Disembarked

by BrighteyedJill



Series: We Have Come Through (Black Jewels/MCU Crossover) [2]
Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But all about on par with the Black Jewels series in general, Gen, References to Torture, References to dub-con, something adjacent to suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: The Queen who has captured Tony wants him to design more of the Craft-powered weapons that facilitated the takeover of his home Territory in the first place. Tony has other plans.Takes place before "We Have Come Through," roughly at the time of "Daughter of the Blood."





	Where I am Disembarked

**Author's Note:**

> After so much exciting discussion in the comments of "We Have Come Through," I have a collection of plot bunnies for this crossover universe that I'd like to explore. Hence, there is now a series.

In the flickering shadows the oil lamps threw on the corridor’s stone walls, Tony kept seeing the bodies of the villagers, Blood and landen alike, heaped on the killing field, and the smile on the face of Yamina’s Master of the Guard as he lowered the weapon Tony had designed. Such an elegant piece of Craft and metal, engineered to channel power into efficient patterns for maximum possible destruction. Tony had designed it perfectly. He’d never thought it would be used like that. Not like that.

One of the guards walking behind him prodded him in the back, and he stumbled forward. The other guards didn’t pull away in fear as they might have done a week or two ago, when they thought Tony might strike out with the Red. The beatings and starvation had taken their toll, but the despair was worse. After Starks had fought for generations to keep the Territory free of Hayll’s encroaching influence, now Tony had unwittingly given them the tools that would take down not only his homeland, but the next Territory Hayll wished to subjugate, and the next, and the next. He deserved every blow, every insult that Yamina and her guards rained down on him. 

One of the men, a Yellow Jeweled Warlord, heaved open the heavy doors at the end of the corridor and stepped aside to the let the others hurry Tony into the banquet hall. Yamina had made herself at home in the tower that had been the traditional seat of the Territory’s Queen, back when good Queens survived long enough to rule. Tony spared a thought for Pepper, to wonder if she’d ever made it to Kaeleer, but shoved the question away. He had to believe she was still alive.

The guards pushed Tony to his knees in front of the dais where Yamina sat on her carved blackwood throne in an ostentatious gown that must have cost enough to feed the Territory for a month. The men and women of her Court, fluttering around the edges of the room, chattered excitedly. 

“Welcome, Prince.” She stood up, smoothing the silky fabric of her dress, and the room quieted. She eyed Tony up and down, taking in the clothes, which had once been fine, but were now stained with dirt and blood, that hung loosely on him. “I trust you’ve found your accommodations… comfortable?” The members of the Court laughed.

“To be totally honest, Lady Yamina,” Tony said, loud enough for the whole room to hear, “I prefer the smell of straw and rat shit to your psychic stink.”

Tony had the satisfaction of hearing the Court gasp before a guard’s backhand sent him to the floor. Yamina sighed dramatically. 

“I had hoped, Prince, that you’d be more receptive to joining my Court.” Yamina descended the steps of the dais to look down at Tony. “After all, your work has helped Hayll’s cause immensely. It would have taken much longer to subdue the rebellious forces of the outer Districts without all these delightful trinkets you designed.”

A guard stepped forward and pressed his boot firmly against Tony’s throat to keep him from talking back.

“There were some who recommended that having you shaved might make you more compliant,” Yamina said. An excited buzz rose around the room from the gossiping courtiers. “But I’m not certain I want the Stark bloodline to be so casually wasted.”

Tony wasn’t certain if it was the guard’s boot or his own fear that prevented him from getting enough air as the other guards began to strip Tony, tugging off his boots, pulling at his trousers. When he struggled, the guard put more pressure on his neck until he was forced to lay still and let them manhandle him or black out. As the members of the Court edged closer, cackling like scavenger birds, he began to think blacking out might have been better.

“I’m a merciful woman,” Yamina said, as she walked a slow circle around Tony, inspecting him from every angle. “I will give you the opportunity to beg for leniency. I’ll allow you to wear a Ring of Obedience to ensure your loyalty. If you refuse, I’ll be forced to have you shaved, for the good of the Territory. Which do you prefer?”

The guards finished stripping him and stepped away, giving him space to push to his feet. Rage stirred within him, pushing him towards the killing edge. As a Warlord Prince, he’d been born to kill, raised to fight. Weak as he was, he could make them bleed here. Then he saw the bodies again, blood and death stretching to the horizon because of what he’d made. The visceral memory—smell of blood and mud, sound of tortured screams, taste of ash and burning flesh in the air—knocked him away from the killing edge. 

Tony knew what he had to do. Last night, as he lay bleeding on the floor of his cell in the wake his most recent beating, he’d prayed to the Darkness for the strength to end this. He wouldn’t let his abilities be used to bring ruin to Hayll’s enemies, at least not more than he had already. He squared his shoulders and glared at Yamina as she mounted the dais again and turned to face him. 

“What is your decision, Prince?”

“What good would it do you to Ring me, Yamina?” Tony let his mind descend slowly, carefully, gathering his power as he went. “If I only have basic Craft, I can’t make the weapons I have before.”

Yamina smiled and perched back on her chair. She thought she’d won. “Well, a slave may be allowed to earn certain privileges.” She gave him another slow look up and down, and her lips curled as he smile turned sharp. “If you’re well-behaved, I’d allow you to continue your little experiments.”

“Yeah, sounds great.” Tony drew on the power of his birthright Opal jewel and kept descending. “Won’t work if I’m not capable of doing the Craft that creates the weapons you want.”

“Silly Prince. Are you trying to convince me that you’re not the man who made these?” She nodded to the device her Master of the Guard held. “We know you are. My reports tell me you happen to be very skilled at certain kinds of Craft.”

“For now.” The gathered power thrummed within Tony, sinking to the depths of the warm, welcoming Red.

“I see!” Yamina’s smile warmed. “Are you afraid I’m going to break you? Oh, I would sooner destroy a beautiful painting. I won’t—“

“I will.” Tony loosened his hold on his power, and it leapt within him, boiling over his inner barriers faster than he’d thought possible, and rising at speed. 

At the level of the Purple Dusk, Yamina felt it, too, and her eyes widened. “Hold him!” she shouted, and the guards crowded in to hold onto Tony. It wouldn’t do them any good. This fight was inside him, and they couldn’t touch him there.

“Get away from me now,” Tony shouted, “or I will break my Jewels, and you will never get anything out of me.” It was difficult to hear himself speak over the rising wind that swirled in his mind. 

“You wouldn’t do that.” Yamina lifted her chin, but the courtiers in the room began to mutter as the lighter-Jeweled among them finally began to feel the whirling currents of Darkness building in the room.

Tony didn’t bother replying. He closed his eyes and let the power build. It was barely controlled now, tugging at the limits of his Self. He could feel power pulsing through his veins for what might be the last time. He opened his eyes. “I said get away.”

The guards holding him traded nervous glances. Yamina looked up and around, as if the howling she was hearing might have been the wind outside the banquet hall. Tony felt her reach out for the first layer of his inner boundaries, then physically recoil with the shock of the untamed power vibrating inside him. Her eyes widened, probably recalling orders from that bitch Dorothea about bringing him to heel alive and intact. 

“Stop,” she said a little frantically. “I order you—“

The rest was lost to Tony as the power roared in his ears. It rose within him, cresting like a wave. If Tony descended now, crashed down to the level of the Red with all this gathered strength, he’d shatter his Jewels for certain. If he was only able to break himself back to Opal, he’d have to try again, no matter how much it hurt. He couldn’t let his Craft fall into their hands, not even a weakened version. On the other hand, if he fell too hard, he could shatter his mind and lose himself in the Twisted Kingdom. That might in fact be preferable, considering what Yamina would do to him if he rendered himself otherwise useless. He gathered his strength for the plunge. 

“Stop! Don’t!”

Tony started to fall. Someone screamed—Yamina?

“Let him go!” The guards released him and stumbled backwards, and he fell painfully onto his knees. He was free. 

He tried to slow his dive into the darkness, but the weight of the power he’d gathered pushed him forward, inexorable. He couldn’t stop it. He knew, then, feeling the weight of all his gathered power, that he would break his inner web and shatter his mind as well. For a moment, Pepper’s face swam in his vision, but he pushed it aside. This was good. This was what he deserved. He’d begged the Darkness for this kindness. He wouldn’t be a threat to anyone when we walked in the Twisted Kingdom. 

*Prince.* A female voice, dark and deep as midnight, surrounded him. *Turn aside.* A power far, far darker than his own swirled around Tony as he plummeted towards his inner web. It shaped a headlong plunge into a graceful dive, then curved him up again, barely skimming the depth of the Red before he was pulled upwards in a cocoon of dark power. 

“No!” Tony strained for control, but his power bled away, consumed by the other force as a single raindrop in a downpour. Around him, he heard screaming, though he couldn’t tell if the voices were real or in his mind. “No!”

As he rose, buoyed by irresistible outside strength, he looked down and saw his inner web intact. He had to try again. He couldn’t fail at this. But when he reached for his power, he felt his Jewels drained, his reserves completely spent. Whatever they did to him now, he wouldn’t be able to fight them. “No,” he sobbed.

*It is not your time, Prince,* said the midnight voice. *You’re needed here.* The roaring winds inside him rose to a crescendo, then spun away, leaving only a whisper. 

Tony’s eyes snapped open to stillness and silence. He scrambled to his feet, searching for enemies, but all around him were unmoving bodies, eyes staring and sightless. 

Tony called in his Red Jewel. It felt warm to the touch, almost like a living thing. It had been completely drained to the last drop of power, but it was intact. He hadn’t lost his Craft or destroyed himself. He was still whole.

Suddenly exhausted, Tony sank back down to his knees. He closed his eyes and sent out another prayer to the Darkness. *Thank you.*


End file.
